


Fever

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 09:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: "What was it like?" Prompto asks.Ignis... expected a different question.





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.

He knows what Prompto's going to ask before he even says a word.  The question weighs heavy in the quiet between them, has done since Prompto took charge of... helping him... in the daily tasks turned obstacles with the loss of his sight.  Even a blind man can guess what he did - he can feel the scarring _around his finger_ every time he clasps his hands together, still too tender, too sensitive, for the protection of gloves.

But Prompto doesn't pester him immediately, as Gladio does.  He hasn't kept his distance, like Noctis.  No, he remains at his side, steadfast and unmoving and _patient_ , giving him _time_ when they have so little of it to spare.

So it comes as no surprise to him when Prompto lays his head on his shoulder one night and takes a steadying breath before playing his fingers over the marks on his hand in a gentle caress.

"What was it like?"  He asks and that - surprises Ignis.  He expected _why_ or _did it hurt?_   But maybe Prompto already knows the answers to those.

"Fever in the blood," he says after a moment to collect his thoughts and memories jagged with pain and blood and sorrow, "you know something's wrong but you're powerless to stop it.  You just have to keep going, even as it eats you alive.  If you're lucky, you'll escape mostly unscathed."

Mostly... except for his sight.

"And if you're unlucky?"

"You die," he replies, and doesn't miss the wounded noise Prompto buries against his throat as he curls in tighter against him, wraps him in warmth so different and welcoming compared to the inferno from the Kings.

"Shh, I'm alive."

"But you're not okay.  They _hurt_ you, Iggy!"

"I will be, with time.  It's alright."


End file.
